Discretion will protect you, and understanding will guard you (Proverbs 2:11).

"Don't worry, man, we've got your back."  Mr. D's tone was measured and unemotional.  I knew that his words represented a statement of fact -- not grandiose rhetoric or empty promises -- but I still needed to hear it, as I was gearing up for a knock-down, dragged-out, kicking-and-screaming fight with an enemy of unparalleled venom and resourcefulness.

"We're right here beside you," said Mr. U, reiterating and reaffirming the strategic support.  With these two guys flanking me, I felt powerful and prepared.  But still, I knew we were in for all-out war.

My father had introduced me to Mr. D, back when I was quite young; but we had gotten to know each other through the years, to the point that he felt more like MY friend than "my father's friend."  During my high school years, I had foolishly distanced myself from him a little bit -- my gangly awkwardness and insecurity getting in the way of just about everything good in my life -- but he had not held it against me, when I came back to him and re-embraced our relationship.  On the contrary, he had become one of my closest companions.  He considered it his personal mission to accompany me and protect me in these most difficult moments of conflict and confrontation.  And I was glad to have him on my side.  Sure, he was a bit older, graying at the temples, a lean face, deep laugh-lines around his mouth and his eyes -- but his strength was nevertheless evident.  His light blue polo shirt tightly hugged his thick, round shoulders, and his forearms were all muscle and sinew.  His eyes were penetrating, as if they alone were one of his most deadly weapons in a fight.  I knew and trusted Mr. D deeply, implicitly, and his presence had given me great strength for a long time.

I didn't really get to know Mr. U, on the other hand, until later in life.  He was always kind of around.  There was never a time when he was not visible, in the background of my life.  But it wasn't until after I had finished my education, after some traveling, after I had gotten married, and after my children had been born, that our friendship really started to develop.  But with time, he became every bit as close as Mr. D, and his accompaniment was every bit as meaningful in my times of need.  He stood a head taller than me and Mr. D, with a thinner, more wirey frame.  He wore a neatly trimmed beard and spectacles -- but there was no mistaking the fact that he also knew how to fight.  There was a long, obvious scar across the right side of his neck, just below the place where his beard started growing, and there were a number of smaller scars visible on his forearms.  Just the way that he stood suggested a readiness to take whatever punch was thrown at him and turn it into a submission hold.  So with him on my left side, and Mr. D on my right side, I knew -- even though my stomach churned involuntarily -- that we were ready for battle.

We arrived at the street corner where the enemy was supposed to meet us -- a strategic crossroads on the way into the center of the city -- but there was no sign of him or any of his goons.  Mr. D kept his arms crossed, and Mr. U leaned up against a lamppost.  I crouched down on my haunches, peering down the long streets on either side.  It was several minutes before Mr. D made the first sighting.  My enemy was sliding down the street off to the south, headed in our direction with what appeared to be two of his thugs, wielding baseball bats and chains.  But when they noticed the three of us, standing on the street corner, they stopped.  Still 50 meters away, we couldn't quite see what they were doing; but it appeared that they were having an argument and were making no further progress in our direction.

"Should we go meet them over there?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly.

"No, let's just stay here, where we can see them and they can see us," said Mr. U with a tone of confidence and clarity.

"Don't worry," said Mr. D.  "We've got your back."

As we stood and watched, we saw one of the thugs drop his baseball bat and stomp off in the opposite direction, away from our street corner.  The other two called out after him, but we couldn't understand what they were saying.  Eventually, they turned around and started walking in our direction again.  They never did cross over to our side of the street, however.  When they got about 10 meters away, they called out to us -- challenging us to come over to them and take a licking.

We didn't budge.  Mr. D said, "They're afraid.  They're not going to cross that street because they know that they're at a disadvantage.  We have nothing to worry about from them."

"Don't say anything," said Mr. U.  "Just let them do their trash-talking, and if they really want to make an issue of it, they'll come over here."

So we waited, wordlessly.  And sure enough, after a few minutes of them calling curses at us, they simply turned tail and disappeared.  It was cowardly on their part, but really just par for the course, based on everything that we had observed from them.  Mr. U suggested that we go back home, and I was happy to agree.  So we started back, with Mr. D on my right side and Mr. U on my left side, and I never felt more fortunate to be surrounded by friends.